


show me where your love lies

by fleurting



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Pining, accidental dick pics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 04:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurting/pseuds/fleurting
Summary: The last thing Phil expects when he ducks into Lucky's diner to avoid the rain is that he'll end up sleeping with its owner.





	show me where your love lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/gifts).

> This fic is an amalgamation of both MCU and comics canon. Also, as it's basically impossible to find a canon birth year for Clint, I've made him 29 and Phil 39 in this fic.
> 
> Huntress79, in a previous exchange letter you mentioned barista!Clint and favorite customer!Coulson and I took that idea and ran with it. And kept running with it until it turned into this weird hybrid of a diner and friends with benefits AU. I hope you enjoy it!

Phil finds Lucky’s by happenstance. 

He’s only been in the city for a few weeks and has yet to find a regular coffee shop. So far, his choices have been convenience store coffee (gross but cheap) or _Starbucks_ (slightly less gross but expensive). He’s walking down the street, musing over whether or not he’ll ever find a place with decent coffee in this big, bustling, confusing, exciting puzzle of a city when it starts to rain. 

He curses and runs into the nearest building because for once, he is unprepared and doesn’t have an umbrella. He blames this on the weather channel which told him, _repeatedly,_ that the day held nothing but sunny skies. 

Phil looks around once he’s inside and realizes he’s inside a diner. The diner doesn’t seem to have a theme, other than a vaguely homely, Americana aesthetic. He wipes his feet on the welcome mat in front of the door (cute, he thinks) and sits down on a stool at the bar. 

There are a few other people inside, chatting quietly, and the lights are a warm yellow and not the bright white kind that hurt his eyes. He looks around but doesn’t see anyone who appears to work there so he picks up a menu and begins to scan the offerings. 

He feels something brush against his leg and looks down to find a dog with golden brown fur and one eye staring up at him.

“Oh. Hello, there,” he says, holding out his hand and letting the dog sniff it. The dog sniffs for a few seconds and must decide Phil is acceptable because he pushes his head into Phil’s leg and demanding Phil pet him. Phil laughs and tentatively begins petting him. 

“What’s your name?”

“That’s Lucky,” a voice says and Phil spins around. A man is behind the counter, wiping off a mug. 

“Hi,” he smiles. “I’m Clint.”

Clint looks a little younger than him, a friendly smile, lips with a perfect cupid’s bow, and hair that hovers between dark blonde and light brown. Basically, exactly Phil’s type. 

“What can I get you?”

Phil clears his throat and looks back down at the menu. “Uh, surprise me,” he mumbles. 

“Sorry?” Clint asks and Phil looks back up to see Clint leaning forward slightly. He points to his ear. “Sorry, hearing aid’s on the fritz.” 

Phil flushes in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry! I said surprise me.” 

Clint grins at him, a twinkle of amusement, and maybe a sense of being impressed, in his eye. 

“What?” Phil asks, laughing nervously. 

“Nothing,” Clint shakes his head. “You just didn’t over enunciate. Most people do.”

“Oh, yeah, my neighbor growing up was deaf. She taught me how not to be an asshole.”

Clint laughs, and Phil tries not to notice how nice of a laugh it is but fails. “Nice. You know any ASL?”

Phil brings his thumb and forefinger together and makes the sign for “a little bit”. “Sorry,” he says, sheepish. 

Clint waves him off. “No, man, it’s cool. That’s great that you know any. Most people don’t.”

“So, you said to surprise you?” 

Phil nods. “Yeah, I don’t really care. I just need some coffee.”

“No food allergies or anything?” 

“Nope. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want huh?” Clint grins flirtatiously. 

Phil blushes, sputtering out an awkward, “Yeah.”

“Okay, be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Phil glances outside to where the rain is now pouring down. “I doubt that’s gonna be happening anytime soon.

Clint smiles. “Good.” 

A few minutes later Clint comes back with a mug filled with a light brown liquid with a streak of white in it. 

Phil blows on it, intensely aware of how Clint is watching him and takes a sip. 

“Mmm!” He exclaims in delight. “That’s amazing.”

Clint beams at the compliment. A butterfly starts to flap its wings in Phil’s stomach. 

“What is it?” 

“Cortadito. Cuban coffee usually made with steamed whole milk but I made yours a cortadito con evaporada. Steamed evaporated milk instead of whole.”

“It’s amazing.” 

Clint laughs. “You said that already.”

“Well, it’s true.” 

There’s a soft whine and Phil and Clint both turn to see Lucky pawing at the counter. 

“Aw, hey buddy.” Clint walks out from behind the counter, kneeling down, and rubbing Lucky. “Who’s amazing?” He asks, his pitch changing into that one people use when speaking to animals and babies. “_You are_. Yes, you are. Aren’t you?”

Phil melts. 

* * *

Lucky’s becomes a part of his routine and by association, so does Clint. 

He goes by every morning on his way to work, where Clint gives him a new concoction to try based on how Phil’s feeling that day. If he’s sad or slightly homesick, which he never tells Clint but somehow Clint seems to always just _know, _something with vanilla or honey. If he’s nervous about a big presentation at work, something without caffeine, despite Phil’s protests. Sometimes, Clint just looks at him, nods, and comes back with something delicious. Only once has Clint ever served him something disgusting and that time was a prank. Clint had barely looked at him before coming back with one of those eco-friendly coffee cups with a lid. Phil had frowned, Clint always gave him his coffee in one of the diners charming, mismatched mugs, but had shrugged and taken a sip only to immediately almost spit it out.

“What the hell is that?”

“Black coffee,” Clint had said through his laughter. “Sorry! I had to! I had to test my hypothesis.

“Your hypothesis?” 

“That even though you look like one of those typical suit guys---,” At this Phil had looked down at his suit, bewildered. “Who only drinks black coffee because he’s a real man,” Clint said, putting air quotes around the last words. “And reads the Dow every day, you aren’t.” 

Phil made a face at him. “I hate finance.” 

Clint pretended to swoon. “A man after my own heart.” 

Phil had smiled and tried to ignore the warmth in his chest he felt at Clint saying those words, even though he didn’t mean them. 

* * *

“Is something wrong with him, you think?” Phil asks, a few weeks later, sitting in his usual spot. (Clint has even put up a handwritten note card on the counter space in front of his seat that says _ “Reserved for Phil.” _Phil had laughed and rolled his eyes at the joke but it sent a jolt of pleasure through him every time he saw the sign sitting out on the counter. None of Clint’s other customers had a sign.) 

“Hmm?” Clint asks, turning away from changing the coffee filter. 

Phil points at a man sitting a few booths down from the counter. He’s got long brown hair tied up into a bun, a prosthetic arm the likes of which Phil has neer seen. The arm looks like it’s made out of metal. Phil vaguely remembers seeing something in the news about Stark Industries going into the prosthetics industry, maybe the arm is one of those. 

“He looks so upset. I feel like I should do something.”

“Oh, that’s Bucky. He just looks like that. Don’t worry about it. Actually, if you wanna see what he looks like when he’s actually smiling, stick around for another half hour.”

“Why?” Phil asks, lips quirking up in amusement. “What happens in half an hour?”

Clint grins. “Stick around and you’ll find out.” 

Against his better judgment, Phil stays. As much as his parents, and his coworkers, and the personality tests he obsessively takes all tell him he’s a stickler for the rules, he’s not always so pedantic. He has a rebellious side. He can be half an hour late for work. 

Exactly at 9:35, the bell above the door to the diner starts ringing, the door swinging open to reveal a gorgeous man with beautiful brown skin and a disarming smile wearing a t-shirt that does little to hide his bulging biceps.

“I know, right?” Clint says, noticing Phil check the man out. Phil blushes and tries not to think about whether or not this means Clint is interested in men. 

“Bucky’s completely gone for him. Just watch,” Clint says, like he’s warning Phil not to go anywhere. 

“Hey, Sam,” Clint says, walking up to the man. “What can I get for you today?” 

The man, _ Sam’s _, eyebrows furrow. “My usual?” He asks, voice going up at the end. “That I’ve been getting every day for the past two years?”

“Right, right,” Clint nods. “‘Course. I know that. Just messin’ with ya.”

The confused expression hasn’t left Sam’s face. 

Clint leans in to whisper something to Sam but says it just loud enough that Phil can hear. “Late night,” he says, grimacing and tapping the side of his head. 

“Ah,” Sam says, taking the cup of coffee Clint slides over to him. He must’ve been making it while they were talking. Phil hasn’t even noticed. He never not notices things. Clint is...distracting.

“Watch,” Clint whispers, nodding his head towards the booth Bucky is sitting in. Phil obeys, watching as Sam carries his coffee over to the booth and slides in across from Bucky. For the briefest of seconds, Bucky’s eyes seem to light up but then he’s back to his standard expression, only more annoyed. 

Phil can’t hear what they’re saying but Bucky and Sam look more like they’re fighting than anything. They’re bickering at the very least.

“It kind of just seems like they’re fighting,” Phil whispers. Clint has arms folded on the table and is leaning over enough that every time he talks Phil can feel Clint’s breath on his face. His breath smells, unsurprisingly, of coffee and strangely, of mint. 

“It’s all an act,” Clint insists. “Just wait.” 

Phil waits a little while longer but whatever act Sam and Bucky may or may not be playing, they don’t drop it.

“As riveting as this is,” he tells Clint. “I’ve gotta get to work. I’m already late.”

Clint puts and Phil can’t help but imagine what it might be like to tug at that bottom lip, swipe his tongue across that mouth. 

“Gimme your number,” Clint says and a thrum of excitement rushes through his body. But then Clint adds, “I’ll text you updates.” 

“Right,” Phil says, mostly to himself, “Okay. Here.” He hands Clint his phone, rolling his eyes. 

Clint hands him his phone back and Phil curses, looking at the time. He’s in such a rush that he doesn’t even look to see what Clint had put himself in Clint’s phone as until he gets a text from “Your Favorite Barista.” Phil hates that he can’t argue with that. 

Phil hurriedly opens the message but his excitement drops when it’s just a simple _ hey _ and an update on Sam and Bucky. 

* * *

It’s been a week since they exchanged numbers and his and Clint’s texting relationship has grown exponentially. At first, the content of their conversations was solely about Sam and Bucky and whether or not they’re anything more than friends. (Clint insists they are. Phil is doubtful.) But they can only speculate about that for so long and soon they’re texting about what shows Netflix has just unfairly canceled, and speculation about who kept stealing Phil’s yogurt from the office fridge and wacky but delightful customers at Lucky’s.

Clint sends him selfies of himself and Lucky and Phil sends Clint pictures of what he’s up to (which is usually work). 

Apparently, Sam and Bucky are not just customers but friends of Clint’s as Clint invites him to their various group gatherings. He never goes though. He doesn't like being in situations where he doesn’t know everyone. It makes him anxious. Maybe once he’s met Sam and Bucky officially. 

Phil stops by Lucky’s on the way to work and is immediately surrounded. Sam and Bucky sit on either side of him and Clint is, of course, in front of him, behind the counter. 

“Um---.”

“Hi. I’m Sam,” Sam says, smiling. He has a great smile. It’s hard to look away from. It is, objectively, gorgeous. But Phil prefers Clint’s. 

“I’m Sam. I’ve seen you around. Sorry I haven’t introduced myself. This asshole,” Sam pauses to nod his head at Bucky, “is James.”

Bucky glares at Sam. “It’s _ Bucky _.” 

“James.” Sam says, still grinning. 

“Phil,” Phil interrupts their staring contest. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Clint’s told us about you.” 

Phil tries not to look too outwardly excited about this. “He has?” 

Clint whistles, wipes of the counter, and pointedly doesn’t look at Phil. 

“All good things, don’t worry. Anyway, you should come out with us sometime. We don’t bite. Well, except for that one.” Sam tilts his head toward Bucky. 

“Will you stop telling people that?” Bucky says, sounding exasperated. The two of them start squabbling and Phil drinks his coffee, their argument a pleasant background noise. He catches Clint’s eye and grins. 

He stops by again on his way home that evening.

“Seriously,” Clint says, handing over a chai latte. “Come out with us. I’m starting to think you don’t like me,” he jokes. 

Phil wides his eyes. “How’d you figure it out?”

Clint swats at him with his rag. “Asshole.”  


“For real. Come out with us tomorrow night. We’re just going to a movie and it’s only a few of us. No big deal.” 

Phil thinks about it. A movie means hardly any talking and he feels a bit less awkward not that he’s at least met Sam and Bucky officially. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Clint beams and Phil just knows that he’s gonna end up going, if it means there’s even the slightest change Clint will look at him that way again. 

* * *

The next night finds him in front of the movie theater, anxiously waiting for everyone else to show up. He may be a little early. But he likes to be punctual. And punctual means five minutes early. 

“Hey!” A voice exclaims and then Clint is jogging up him. “You made it!” 

Clint does something he’s never done before. He _ hugs _ Phil. And not one of those half ass hugs that most men do either. A real hug, with both his arms thrown around Phil and squeezing. Phil squeezes back and tries to ignore how nice Clint feels in his arms. 

  


Clint stays by his side the whole night. Phil assumes this is an effort to make him feel more comfortable and while he appreciates the gesture, all it does is make him even more anxious. 

Clint saves Phil a seat right beside him and Phil spends every moment intensely aware of every move Clint makes. 

He notices every time Clint‘s arm shifts even a centimeter on the armrest. He notices every time he takes a sip of his drink or grabs a handful of popcorn. And that’s just during the previews. It gets even worse once the movie starts and Clint whispers commentary into Phil’s ear, making him shiver. He doesn’t know how he makes it through. 

Later on, outside, after the movie has ended and everyone else has gone home, they hover, looking up at the sky, which doesn’t contain any stars. 

“So, what’d you think?”

“Of your friends or the movie?” Only three other people showed up, two muscular blondes named Steve and Thor, and a woman named Maria Phil had seen around the diner a few times. They hadn’t really talked much but they were friendly during introductions and while waiting in line. 

Clint shrugs. “Both.”

“Your friends seem nice,” he says, smiling at the pleased look on Clint’s face at his words. “And the movie was good.” 

“Yeah,” Clint agrees. “I felt like it was something, you know?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. A love story.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

They’re close enough that Phil can see the length of Clint’s eyelashes, that he has a tiny freckle on the left side of his nose, that there’s a scar right above his eyebrow. If they both leaned in just slightly, their lips would touch. For a fraction of a second, it seems like they’re about to do it. 

But then Phil forces himself to pull away. He’s reading into things that aren’t there. Clint is young, a lot younger than him, and has plenty of other, younger, people he could be interested in. He isn’t interested in Phil. Hell, he barely even knows Phil. This is the first time they’ve seen each other without a counter between them. Clint isn’t interested in him as anything more than a friendly acquaintance. He’s sure of it. 

“Thanks for tonight.”

“Sure,” Clint says and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Clint looks disappointed. But he does know better. 

“See you around?” Phil says, hating that he sounds so hopeful like he desperately wants to see Clint again. Which he does but Clint doesn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah,” Clint replies, voice soft. “See you around.”

* * *

A few weeks later Phil gets a text from Clint. It’s nothing at all like his usual messages. Phil nearly drops his phone in shock when he sees it. 

It’s a photo.

A photo of Clint. 

More specifically, it’s a photo of what is (presumably) Clint’s dick. 

It’s long and thick, and it makes Phil’s water just from looking at it. 

His mind immediately conjures up an image of a fantasy, him on his knees, his hands wrapped around Clint’s cock, his mouth greedily sucking it. Clint with his hand around Phil’s neck, his mouth open in pleasure because that’s how good Phil is at pleasuring him. 

Fuck. He’s hard, Phil realizes, pulling himself out of the fantasy. 

Without thinking about it, which he never does, he never does anything without thinking it over first, but it was a long day and he’s already two beers in, he pulls down the sweats he’s changed into and takes a picture of his own cock. Before the logical part of his brain, the tiny part that’s not overtaken by desire and uninhibited due to alcohol sends the picture to Clint. 

It takes him a minute or two to realize what he’s done and then he promptly freaks the fuck out. 

“Shit,” he says to himself. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

Phil’s phone dings. _ Shit. _

He doesn’t want to check it but he knows he has to. 

_ Shit _ , Clint’s message reads. _ this is what i get for trying to text two ppl at once. im so sorry _

Fuck, the message wasn’t even _for_ him. Of course it wasn't. _ Of course _it wasn’t for him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

His phone goes off again. 

_ Oh fuck. Just got your msg _

_ Sorry, _ Phil replies. _ I thought… _

_ Jesus. You’re huge _

_ Really? _Phil asks, doubtful. He always thought he was pretty average. 

_ Fuckin gorgeous too _

All the blood in Phil’s body rushes to face. 

Phil bites his lip, considering it, before he decides _ fuck it _ , and fires off a text back that says _ you too. _

His phone dings three times in rapid succession.

_ I mean... _ followed by _ if you wanted to _ and finally, _ i’d be up for it (lol) _. 

_ Really? _Phil replies as quickly as possible.

_ God yes. _

_ You’re sure? _ Phil asks. _ It won’t be awkward? _

_ I’m sure, Clint replies. Come over. I live in the apartment above the shop. _

Phil’s already halfway out the door when his phone goes off again. 

_ I have been salivating over your cock since the moment I got your picture _

_ Fuck, _Phil thinks. 

_ On my way. _

* * *

Phil hovers outside of Clint’s door, trying to work up the courage to knock. 

Clint had texted _ come in through the main door, it’s open. go through the employees only door and turn left, take the stairs. see you soon. _but he hasn’t said anything else. 

The fresh air from the walk over has sobered him up a bit and he’s not so sure if this is a good idea anymore. But before he can turn around and go back home, a door is creaking open and Clint’s grabbing Phil by the shirt and pulling him inside. 

“_ Finally _,” is all Clint says before his mouth is pressing insistently at Phil’s own. “Thought you got lost,” Clint murmurs, pulling away slightly. Phil’s slightly ashamed that his head moves forward as Clint’s moves away. Now that he’s had a taste of Clint, he’s desperate for more. 

“I’m old,” Phil says, “not senile.”

Clint eyes rake up and down Phil’s body. “Not that old.” 

He gazes into Phil’s eyes and the intensity, the heat, behind that look has Phil shuddering.

Next thing he knows, Clint is on his knees, lifting Phil’s shirt up. He presses a kiss above Phil’s belly button and then starts making his way down. Phil’s already on edge from their texts earlier and every touch brings him that much closer to the edge. Clint hasn’t even touched his cock yet. 

Clint pulls down his pants, which are sweats, gasping when there’s nothing underneath. 

“Sorry,” Phil says, “I just threw something on before I came over.”

“_ Don’t _ apologize,” Clint says, looking at Phil in a way that makes Phil shudder. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Clint says into Phil’s skin, placing soft kisses all around Phil’s groin but not where Phil needs it most. 

“_Please,_” Phil whines, hating that he’s already so desperate. 

“Patience,” Clint says, grinning up at him. He grabs Phil’s legs and spreads them even farther apart and even though Phil has never enjoyed being manhandled in the past, Clint doing it makes his cock harden. 

Clint places slow, tantalizing kisses on the inside of Phil’s thighs until Phil cups Clint’s chin and forces Clint to look at him. “_ Please.” _

Clint’s eyes darken and then _finally_, Clint is touching him. Clint curls his hand around Phil’s cock and starts moving it up in down. Even though it’s much faster than what he was doing before, it’s still excruciatingly slow. 

“I thought,” Phil gasps. He can’t even finish the sentence because Clint has just flicked his tongue over the head of his cock. Before Phil has a chance to recover from it, Clint’s licking up and down his shaft and then taking Phil into his mouth as far as he can. 

“_ Clint_,” Phil moans and Clint moans around his cock in response. He’s so close. He could come at any second. Clint takes the hand not currently rubbing up and down the length of Phil’s cock Clint’s mouth can’t fit and squeezes Phil’s ass. Then, he reaches down and one his fingers brushes against Phil’s hole and Phil’s gone, spilling into Clint’s mouth. He tries to warn him but Clint just moans and greedily laps it up. _Jesus,_ this man is going to be the death of him.

Clint pulls off of him, mouth making a deliciously filthy _ pop _ as he does so. Phil sinks to the floor.

“That was…”

“Amazing,” Clint finishes for him, leaning in and kissing Phil. Phil revels in the taste of himself on Clint’s lips. 

Phil reaches down and firmly grasps Clint’s cock. 

“My turn.” 

* * *

Phil wakes up confused.

He’s warm and the sunlight is streaming in through the window. Phil’s apartment is never warm. It’s kept at a cool 65 degrees. And he has blackout curtains. He starts to sit up, freezing when he feels another body stirring beside him. 

“Stop,” the voice mumbles and it takes Phil’s sleep muddled brain to recognize the voice as Clint’s. “I can _ hear _ you panicking.” 

“What?” Phil laughs awkwardly. 

“I mean, not literally, I haven’t put my hearing aids in yet. But this,” Clint taps his finger on Phil’s chest, where his heart is. “Is beating like crazy. I can feel it,” Clint says, laying his head back down on Phil’s chest. 

Phil tries to slow his breathing but he doesn’t think it works. Clint sighs and sits up, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand. It is insufferably cute. Phil’s heart attempts to flutter but he firmly commands it to stop. 

“Look,” Clint says, squinting at Phil. His hair is sticking up in the back and he looks - young. So incredibly young. Just another reason Phil shouldn’t have done this.

“You don’t need to freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Phil says.

Clint rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. We’re just two friends who got a little drunk and had some fun together.” 

“Right,” Phil says, a slight pant of disappointment going through him, though he isn’t sure why. 

“Or...” Clint trails off. 

“Or?” Phil says, something like hope filling up his chest. 

“_ Or _..This could be more than a one-time thing.” 

Phil hesitates. “I don’t kn—“

Clint cuts him off. “No strings attached, obviously. I dunno. It just seemed like we had fun together. I haven’t had that much fun with somebody in a while. But I get it if you don’t wanna—-“

“No,” Phil says slowly, thinking it over. He _ did _ have fun. And it was the best sex he’s had in a very long time. He quickly makes a pros and cons list in his head. The cons outweigh the pros and Phil’s saddened by this fact, which means he’d already made up hia mind before even making the list. He should go with his gut. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Clint says, looking dubious but hopeful. 

“Okay,” Phil repeats, smiling slightly this time. 

Clint _punches_ him lightly in the arm. “Asshole.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” 

Clint rolls on top of him. “Oh, so you've got jokes, now? Okay, I see how it is.”

Phil giggles, actually _giggles_, and with the warmth of the sun coming in through the windows, and the weight of Clint on top of him, and the brightness of Clint’s smile, he feels _ content_. Truly happy. It’s a nice feeling. He could get used to it. But that’s a very dangerous thought to have, especially when Clint has essentially just outright stated he doesn’t want anything more than casual sex so he flips them over that he’s on top and kisses Clint senseless. 

* * *

He stops by the diner a few days later. He hadn’t been able to face going in the day after his and Clint’s drunken escapade, or the day after that, but he and Clint texted. It’s basically the same way they texted before only now, suggestive comments are scattered throughout the messages and Phil occasionally gets off on reading them. 

Despite the ease of their communications over the past few days, Phil’s still nervous about seeing Clint in person. 

He scans the diner, procrastinating meeting Clint’s eyes, and spots Sam and Bucky in a booth, a game of checkers and two cups of coffee on the table in front of him. Sam is laughing and Bucky glaring but when Sam gets up to go to the restroom, Bucky watches him with a soft, small smile. 

Phil looks up to see Clint walking through the swing door that leads to the kitchen. Clint’s eyes light up when he spots Phil and Phil’s skin starts to heat up as he remembers those eyes staring up at him as Clint had Phil’s cock in his mouth. 

“Hey,” Clint says flirtily. It’s different to the easy, casual flirting he did with Phil the first day, the flirting he does with all the customers. This flirting has more weight, like it’s real, like it matters.

“Hey,” Phil says, blushing. 

“C’mon,” Clint says, taking Phil by the arm and leading him through the kitchen. 

“Isn’t this some kind of health code violation?” Phil asks, grinning. “I don’t work here. You don’t know me. What if I—-“

Clint rolls his eyes. He drags Phil into the back and into a hallway, where Clint pounces on him. 

“This is definitely a health code violation,” Phil says, breathily. 

“I don’t care,” Clint whispers into Phil’s ear. “I’ve been thinking about you for _ days. _”

Phil gulps. “Oh?”

Clint nods his head, which is currently buried in Phil’s neck, lips brushing across the tendons there. 

“And what were you thinking about?” Phil’s voice comes out strained. 

Clint whispers in Phil’s ear, lips brushing against Phil’s earlobe. “I want you inside me. I want to _ feel you _.” 

Phil shudders, then grips Clint’s waist and kisses him hungrily. 

“My office,” Clint gasps. Phil nods and turns Clint around so he can lead the way, never once taking his hands off of Clint. 

Soon, they’re in Clint’s office and Clint has Phil pressed up against the door, muttering everything else he’s thought about in the few days since they last saw each other. 

“Your fingers,” he pants. “Got myself off thinking about your fingers inside me. Fingered myself pretending it was your fingers inside me, _ wishing _ it was your fingers inside me.” 

“Clint,” Phil says, _ whines_. 

Clint kisses him in response and starts unbuttoning Phil’s shirt. He’s working on Phil’s belt when the door opens. 

Phil closes his eyes in embarrassment but not before he can see who it is that’s walked in on them. It’s a young girl that Phil’s seen waiting tables sometimes. She’s got long, brownish-red hair and wide eyes. 

“Oh! Sorry.” 

“Hey, Wanda,” Clint says, entirely at ease. Phil has no idea how. He’s sure his own face is scarlet red and he could die from embarrassment. 

“It’s fine. Just...don’t tell Nat about this? She’ll kill me for fucking in the office. Even though she’s done the same thing,” he adds under his breath, rolling his eyes. 

Wanda nods, and leaves, shutting the door behind her. 

Phil briefly wonders who Nat is but his utter mortification is more concerning right now. 

“Oh my god,” Phil says once Wanda’s gone, putting his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“It’s fine,” Clint says, kissing him on the cheek. “She’s seen me doing way worse.”

Phil doesn’t want to imagine what it else Wanda has caught Clint doing, despite his brain’s efforts to provide him with hundreds of possibilities, so he just shakes his head and kisses Clint again. 

* * *

Phil starts to settle into a routine. He goes to Lucky’s in the months before work and goes back after he gets off. Some days he goes home and reads or cleans until Clint calls, asking if he wants to come over. Other days, Clint just gives him a look that suggests Phil should stay until closing time, so that they can get started the minute the last customer leaves. One night, after Clint has brought him to the edge just by telling Phil all the things he wants to do to him over the phone, Phil tells Clint he has to come over to his place because Phil so much as moves he’s going to come. Clint swears and gets to Phil’s apartment in record time, especially for someone who’s never been there before. After that night, they split their time equally between Phil’s apartment and the diner and it’s nice, easy, comfortable. It’s something Phil could get used to but he tries not to dwell on that. 

It’s Sunday and Phil’s making breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage. Even grits because he knows Clint loves them. 

It’s warm inside the apartment (Phil upped the thermostat from its default 65 degrees after Clint whines about it being too cold). The sun isn’t quite up yet even though it should be. The radio’s having a throwback hour and it’s making Phil feel nostalgic. 

A pair of arms snake around his waist and he grins as lips kiss his shoulder. 

“Watch it,” Phil warns playfully. “A master is at work here.” He flips a pancake up in the air.

“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t distract you,” Clint whispers into Phil’s ear, reaching around Phil and snagging a piece of bacon, laughing as Phil’s swats his hand away. As soon as Clint’s finished his piece of stolen bacon he’s draped over Phil’s back again, placing soft kisses up and down Phil’s neck. Phil smiles. 

The kisses start to go lower, down his shoulders and then his back, and then, right at the base of his spine. 

Clint’s hands come up to his waist and then Phil’s boxers are at his feet and Clint’s hands are clutching his backside. 

“God, I love your ass,” Clint says. 

Phil freezes. He’d almost forgotten. For a few minutes, it felt like they were an actual couple, like they were something real, like they were something more than two friends who occasionally exchanged orgasms. 

But that is all they are. That’s all they will ever be. Phil knows that. So, he pushes away the stinging pain and focuses on the sensation of Clint’s body against his own. 

“Phil!” Clint says as soon as Phil steps into the diner. Phil smiles at the enthusiasm in Clint’s voice but the smile wanes as he notices Clint’s arm wrapped about a beautiful woman. 

“Hey, this is Nat,” Clint says. “She’s my partner in crime.”

The woman, Nat, rolls her eyes. “Meaning I’m his business partner. We run this place together.” She sticks her hand out and smiles. “I’m Natasha.”

“Phil,” he replies, taking her hand. 

“Clint’s told me a lot about you,” she says, turning to Clint, who sticks his tongue out at her. It should look ridiculous, an almost thirty-year-old man sticking out his tongue, but instead, it’s just cute. 

“Likewise,” Phil says, though he doesn’t recall Clint having ever mentioned her. He doesn’t want to be impolite. 

“She’s been out of the country for a few months but now she’s back,” Clint says, his voice relaying just how excited he is by this. He squeezes the arm he has wrapped around her and Natasha, who has looked polite but closed off up till now, visibly softens. 

There’s a casual intimacy to the way Clint interacts with her. Little touches, on the small of her back, as he walks behind her, the way he’ll come up behind her and rests his chin on her shoulder. 

Clint never touches him like that, with that much ease. He feels...jealous. But he quickly shakes that feeling off. He doesn’t have a right to be jealous. He’s nothing but a body to Clint. He’s always known that. And he’s always known that there’s a possibility, that it’s even _likely_ that Phil isn’t the only person Clint is sleeping with. 

He just didn’t realize it would bother him this much.

* * *

“Come on, come for me,” Clint whispers, bending his fingers in just the right way. He’s three fingers deep inside Phil and Phil feels like he could come at any second. 

“Clint,” Phil whines, needy even to his own ears. 

“Come in, you can do it. Come for me, baby. C’mon.” 

At that word, at _ Clint _ calling him _ baby_, in _ that _ voice, Phil falls apart, come spilling out of him. 

“That’s it,” Clint drawls. “You’re so good for me.” 

Phil preens under the praise and then feels shame wash over him. He can’t believe he just came because Clint called him a pet name. This is getting out of control. He’d been doing such a good job too, at hiding how he really felt about Clint. Maybe he should think about ending this, he thinks, but then Clint’s kissing him and the thought flies far away. 

“You can stay, you know,” Clint says once they’re finished. “You don’t have to leave.”

Phil forces himself not to turn around. He knows that if he turns around, he’ll see Clint lying there, nude, sheets draped over him enticingly. He also knows he won’t be able to resist that image. And he knows that staying over, getting used to Clint’s breathing patterns while he sleeps, is dangerous. Especially if he’s at the point now where Clint calling him a simple pet name can make him come instantly. It’s best for both of them if he leaves. 

“Nah,” Phil says as he buttons up his shirt. “I have to be at work early tomorrow. Besides,” he says, putting on the mask of a Phil who doesn’t want to crawl back into the bed and into Clint’s arms. “You hog the bed.”

Clint makes an offended noise. “I do not.”

Phil shakes his head, wincing like he’s delivering bad news. “You do.”

“I have it on good authority that I am exceptional at sharing,” Clint says and Phil’s mind flashes with images of Clint with Natasha, Clint with countless other anonymous lovers. 

“I bet,” Phil mumbles under his breath before he can stop himself.

“Hmm?”

“I said get a new bed. Maybe then I’ll stay.”

“Your wish is my command,” Clint says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. 

Phil rolls his eyes. 

Later, in the comfort of his own home and in the darkness of the night, he replays those words over again, pretending they’re more than a corny joke. It hurts, knowing that the words, and the feelings, the love behind them, will never be true but it’s a good kind of hurt. A kind he’s used to. 

* * *

Everything falls apart on a Tuesday. Phil’s always hated Tuesdays. 

The day starts off innocently enough. He wakes up to a text from Clint, which makes him a lot happier than it should, considering it’s just a brief _ good morning _. 

He stops by Lucky’s, as usual, and is both delighted and devastated when Clint lets his hand rest on top of his as he hands Phil his coffee. He loves the way that Clint’s hand lingers on his but he wishes that Clint would just lean across the counter and kiss him. A kiss just to say hello, a kiss that didn’t lead to something more. A kiss that meant something. 

At first, the day is fine, even if he did make himself sad after seeing Clint, but then afternoon hits and so does a crisis and everyone in upper management is an idiot who needs Phil to fix everything for them. He doesn’t even get a chance to sit down for lunch until four and he only gets to do that because one of the receptionists said he looked like he was about to faint. He’s able to check his phone while he wolfs down a salad and he sees that Clint had texted sometime during the chaos. He’s invited Phil over but Phil doesn’t think he’ll get out of the office until nine, if not later. He lets Clint know and tries not to read too much into the disappointed emoji Clint sends back. 

Thanks to Phil’s prowess and a little bit of duct tape, he’s out the door by 8:30. 

On a whim, he decides to surprise Clint and come over. He gets to Lucky’s and is about to push open the door when he sees them. Clint and Natasha and they’re kissing. At least, that’s what it looks like. But when he squints his eyes he can tell they aren’t, the way they were sitting and the angle of Phil’s view just made it seem like they were. But it doesn’t matter if they weren’t. Because in that brief second he thought they were, it felt like Phil had just been punched in the stomach. Which means he’s forced to reckon with the reality he’s been trying to ignore for months. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen for Clint. Which means only one thing: he has to end this. He needs to end this. 

* * *

It takes him two days to work up the courage to do it. 

“I think, maybe, it would be best if we ended this arrangement.” Phil’s sitting in a chair in Clint’s living room, staring at the floor. He can’t bear to look Clint in the face while doing this?”

“What?” Clint’s been petting Lucky but he freezes when Phil says the words. 

“You didn’t do anything,” Phil assures him. “It’s me. I just think it’s sort of juvenile to be in this sort of arrangement.”

“Juvenile, huh?” Clint says, crossing his arms. “Is this about the age gap? I told you I don’t give a shit about that. No-one does.” 

“It’s not that,” Phil says, snaking his head. “Well,” he pauses, “maybe it is.” If Clint’s going to hand him an excuse, maybe he should take it.

“I’m not getting any younger. It’s time for me to settle down. I need to start looking for something serious.”

“Something serious,” Clint says, voice flat. 

“Yes. I know you’re not ready for that.”

“Bullshit, you don’t know what I want.”

Phil smiles sadly. “Yes, I do. You told me, remember? No strings attached. It’s better for us to go ahead and end this now before either of us develop any feelings.” Phil has to swallow the lump in his chest to get the lie out. 

“Look, Phil, about that—-”

Phil cuts him off, standing up. “It’s okay, Clint. No hard feelings, okay? It was nice knowing you.” He hadn’t come here with the intention of ending their relationship completely, but now, in the same room with Clint, he knows he won’t be able to go back to just Clint’s friend. 

“Nice knowing me? Phil, what the hell are you talking about? We can’t even be friends anymore? _ Phil! _”

But Phil’s already out the door. He manages to get all the way downstairs and across the street before looking back. 

When he gets home, he has a message from Clint. He deletes it and blocks Clint’s number. He knows himself and if he doesn’t quit Clint cold turkey, he’ll never be able to get over him. As much as it pains him to do this, he doesn’t have a choice. 

* * *

Phil’s been avoiding walking by Lucky’s the last few weeks, as much as he’s able. But today he’s so caught up in texting a coworker that he doesn’t even realize he’s at Lucky’s until he steps on something and hears a yelp. 

Phil looks up from his phone and then down to the sidewalk to see a dog laying there. It takes him a second to realize it’s Lucky himself. 

He drops to his knees and scratches Lucky behind the ears. “I’m so sorry, boy!”

Phil spends a minute or two petting him before his eyes spot the leash connected to Lucky’s collar and follows the length of the leash to see a hand firmly grasping the handhold. It's not Clint’s hand. Phil sighs with relief. 

Sam is in the alley a few feet away. He’s holding Lucky’s leash but is clearly more occupied with Bucky, who's standing across from him, seemingly taunt him. Sam pushes Bucky into the wall and Phil starts to stand up and intervene but then Bucky smiles and so does Sam and then they’re kissing. 

Lucky lets out a sigh and Phil turns his attention back to the dog in front of him. 

He scratches behind his ears again. “At least someone’s happy, huh, boy?” 

Phil stands up, wincing at the slight ache in his knees, he’s way too old to be squatting like this, and accidentally looks inside the diner. 

It’s busy. That’s good. It’s a great place. Clint deserves the business. 

Clint—-. Clint is staring right at him. Clint’s staring at him through the clear glass door. Everything in Phil is telling him to flee but he can’t move. It’s like he’s rooted to the ground. He can’t stop staring at Clint. Clint, who looks tired, with deep dark circles under his eyes, and weary. Clint, who’s smile looks like a cheap imitation of what it’s supposed to look like. Clint, who Phil misses more than he is willing to admit, even to himself. Clint—-.

Lucky whines softly and Phil shakes out of his trance. 

“Right,” he clears his throat. “Bye, buddy,” he says softly to Lucky. Lucky looks at him with sad eyes. Phil tries not to think of how similar the expression is to the one Clint just gave him and walks away. 

  


* * *

Life goes back to the wait was pre-Lucky’s, pre-Clint. His days are filled with the mundanities of life. He wakes up, he goes to work, he comes home. Occasionally, Nick from the office will drag him into some kind of office outing, but other than that, he basically spends all of his time in his apartment. 

It’s been just over a month when he gets a call from Sam. He’d forgotten they’d even exchanged numbers at the movies, all those nights ago. 

“Sam? Is everything okay?”

But it isn’t Sam on the other end of the phone. “Hey,” Clint says. “Sorry to bother you. It’s just…” 

Phil can tell something is wrong. “It’s fine. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Lucky’s missing.” 

“I’m coming over,” Phil says, already standing up and getting ready to leave. 

“You don’t have to do that. Can you just keep an eye out? I don’t think he’d go as far as your apartment but you never know.”

“Clint,” Phil says, firmly but gently. “I’m coming over.” 

“Okay,” Clint says softly. “Thank you.”

When he gets to Lucky’s, a crowd of people have already arrived. There’s Sam and Thor and Maria from the movies, Natasha and Wanda, various patrons of the diner Phil has seen around but doesn’t know the names of. Clint thanks everyone for coming and they’re splitting into groups to go look for Lucky and somehow, he gets paired up with Clint. 

“Thanks for coming,” Clint says as they walk down the street, calling out Lucky’s name. 

“Of course.” 

“How...how have you been?” Clint asks.

Phil hates this, how stilted the conversation is. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. But he can’t deny how good it is to hear Clint’s voice again, to see him again. 

“Good,” Phil lies. He hasn’t been good, he’s been miserable but he isn’t going to tell Clint that. 

“I haven’t seen you around the diner in a while…” Clint trails off and Phil winces, feeling guilty.

Phil thinks up a lie that doesn’t make it obvious he’s been avoiding Clint. 

“Yeah, uh, my coworker gave me a gift card so I’ve been going to Starbucks.” 

A disgusted look crosses Clint’s face. “And how’s that been working out for you?”

Phil laughs at Clint’s expression. “It’s awful. I hate it.” 

Clint laughs 

They keep walking, checking alleys and calling out for Lucky. The silence is still awkward but it’s a bit more comfortable now. 

“Look,” Clint says, about thirty minutes into their search. “Whatever it is that I did, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything, Clint,” Phil insists. He needs Clint to know that it wasn’t his fault. “I told you that.”

“I must have though. Things were going so well and then…” he trails off. 

_ And then I caught feelings, _Phil thinks. Fuck it, Clint deserves to know the truth. It’s not fair to leave him worrying and wondering like this. 

He stops in the middle of the street and takes a deep breath. 

“And then I developed feelings for you,” Phil says into the silence. 

Clint stills. “What?”

“I know, I _ know _ it was just supposed to be fun, nothing serious. But I couldn’t help it. You’re... _ you _ and I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. Once I realized how deep my feelings were, I knew I had to end it. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us, if I had just gone on, me being in love with you and you just wanting a casual fling. So, I broke it off. And I wasn’t very nice about it. I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse but I just _ knew _ that it would hurt too much to be your friend so I tried to make you hate me. I’m so sorry, Clint. I’m an asshole and you didn’t deserve the way I treated you.” 

“You love me?” Clint asks. 

“What? I say all that and that’s all you have to focus on?” 

“Answer the question,” Clint says, stepping closer. “Do you love me?” 

“I—. Yes. I love you.”

There’s a blur of movement and then Clint’s arms are around him. “You _ idiot,” _he says, and then kisses him. Phil’s too shocked to respond. 

“Wait. What?” 

“You really think I don’t love you?”

“You,” Phil’s voice breaks. “You do?”

“Of course I do!” Clint exclaims. He brings a hand to rest on Phil’s cheek. “How could I not?” 

“But you said...when we first started this, you said there were no strings attached.”

“Because I thought that’s what you wanted! You looked _ terrified _ when you woke up that morning. You never talk about dating so I assumed you were afraid of commitment or something. But I really liked you and wanted to be with you in any way I could, so I came up with an arrangement where we both got what we wanted. You didn’t have to commit to anything and I got to be with you.” 

Phil can’t help it. He laughs. 

“What? What’s so funny?”

“So what you’re saying is, we both liked each other this entire time but assumed the other didn’t want anything other than a hookup and therefore spent the entire time pining for each other? I feel like I’m in high school again.”

Clint chuckles. “Yeah, when you put it like that it does sound kind of pathetic.”

Phil smiles softly at him. “I like pathetic.”

“I know that’s supposed to be cute but it really just sounds like you’re calling me pathetic.”

“Sorry.”

“I know how you can make it up to me,” Clint says, eyes twinkling in the way they do when he gets flirtatious.

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“Kiss me,” he says simply.

“Whenever you want,” Phil promises. Clint beams. 

They’re still kissing when a voice rings out through the air a few minutes later. 

“We found the dog,” Sam says. 

“If you care,” Bucky adds. 

Clint gasps and runs over to Lucky, hugging him tightly. 

“Where was he?” Phil asks. 

“Chasing a squirrel about twenty blocks from here,” Sam says. 

“In his defense, the squirrel did seem like it was taunting him,” says Bucky. 

“So, you two work your shit out?” 

Phil nods sheepishly as Clint grins into Lucky’s fur.

“About damn time.” 

“So, are you two gonna finally admit you’re a thing so we can double date?” Clint asks, grinning up at Sam and Bucky who are looking at him in shock. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam says finally. “Bucky, you know what he’s talking about?”

“No idea. Where would he get a crazy idea like that?” Bucky asks, taking Sam’s hand and starting to walk away.

“Maybe you should take him home if he’s talking nonsense like this,” Sam says. 

Phil chuckles as Clint flips them off. 

* * *

They take Lucky back to Clint’s, where Clint refuses to leave Lucky’s side for hours. It’s shockingly easy to go back to the way they were. 

They go to bed, Lucky tucked safely in between them, and Clint starts to drift off to sleep to the sound of Phil's breathing and Lucky’s snores.

"Wait," Clint mumbles into the pillow. "We should talk. I'm supposed to yell at you."

Phil smiles softly as Clint tries, and fails, to fight off a yawn. 

"You can yell at me all you want," Phil replies. "Tomorrow. We've got time."

But Clint is already fast asleep. Seeing Clint so peaceful, with Lucky curled up beside him, Phil's heart feels full. He feels like he could fall asleep and wake up to this sight for the rest of his life. He expects to feel panic at this revelation, but instead, he just feels happy and full of excitement. He can't wait for those days to come. 

"I want apology pancakes for breakfast," Clint mumbles, apparently not as asleep as Phil thought.

Phil laughs. "As you wish."

"Don't quote _The Princess Bride_ at me when I'm not awake enough to appreciate it."

Phil chuckles, kisses Clint on the head, rubs Lucky's stomach, and goes to sleep. Just as he falling into a slumber he thinks, _I should really thank the weather channel. _

_"What?" _

Phil must have spoken aloud. 

"Don't worry about it. I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Over pancakes?"

"Over pancakes."


End file.
